


La Petite Bijou

by TheNightComesDown



Series: Mother to Son [6]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Pregnancy, Queen AU, Queen Fic, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 06:50:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17893589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightComesDown/pseuds/TheNightComesDown
Summary: While Roger is on tour in America, you receive some big news - you're expecting! You decide to join him on tour for a few days to share the big news, but somehow it hits the tabloids before you have the chance.





	La Petite Bijou

**LONDON // FEBRUARY 1975**

“Mum, are you okay?” your son called from outside the bathroom door, tapping gently on the wood to get your attention. “Can I come in?” He wiggled the handle, but you had locked the door for privacy. 

“My tummy’s just a bit upset, love,” you groaned, clutching the toilet bowl. “Give me two minutes.” 

“Can I make chocolate milk and watch cartoons?” he asked, his voice syrupy-sweet. It was clear that he was going to take advantage of the situation as much as was possible. This was the fifth day in the past week you’d felt nauseous throughout the day. 

At first you’d assumed your stomach issue was related to something you’d eaten; Corin hadn’t been feeling well either after dinner that night. The next day, he was up and running full-speed around the house. You, however, were still feeling nauseous. The smell of cooking eggs had set you off today, but yesterday it had been a can of tuna you opened to feed the cat. Luckily, you’d had time to reach the kitchen rubbish bin before things got out of hand. Roger was no help with all of this – he was off touring in America, leaving you home alone with Corin. 

When you found the strength and energy to pull yourself up off the bathroom floor, you brushed your teeth and gargled a cupful of water in an attempt to clear the bitter taste of bile from your tongue. The shop would open in just under an hour, but to your relief, your part-time employee, Anna, had agreed to pick up a few extra shifts until you were feeling well again. You had promised yourself yesterday that if it happened again, you would call the doctor’s office. 

Perching yourself on the edge of your bed, you opened the bedside table drawer and fished around for your address book. You flipped to the M’s and dialled the number of your OB/GYN, Dr. Munroe. As much as it scared you, you knew this relentless nausea couldn’t be just a stomach bug; you set an appointment for the following morning, managing to jot the time down on a scrap of paper just in time to rush back into the bathroom. 

* * * * * 

The doctor’s office was chilly, especially when the only thing between your skin and the table was a thin paper gown. Holding your legs out straight, you inspected your shins, which were sliced up after a quick attempt at shaving that morning. You’d planned to drop Corin off at your brother’s for 8:00 in order to make it on time to your appointment, but your alarm clock had other ideas – thus the hurried shower. 

The door to the room creaked open, announcing Dr. Munroe’s entrance. He had a kind smile, which put you at ease. A stethoscope hung around his neck, and his white lab coat had his name embroidered above the breast pocket; he looked professional and very approachable. 

“So, Ms. O’Connor,” he started, spinning his chair around to face you as he settled into the seat, “Good to see you again. I’ve got your results right here. Before we discuss them, though, I’d like to get a better idea of where you’re at right now.” 

“Where I’m at?” you frowned, confused. 

“What does your life look like?” he clarified. “I see in your chart that you gave birth 6 years ago to a healthy baby boy. How has parenting been for you so far?” You bit your lip gently as you thought up an answer. 

“Difficult,” you admitted. “I was a single mom for 4 years, so my son and I were really quite isolated except for the occasional visit from my brother. All things considered, I think we’ve done very well.” 

“So you are no longer a single parent?” Dr. Munroe confirmed, making a note in your chart. 

“My boyfriend moved in with us about a year ago,” you estimated, doing the math in your head. “He’s away for work a lot, but even just knowing that I have help if I needed it is enough to make things easier.” 

“And your boyfriend’s name is…” 

“Roger,” you replied. “He’s great.” 

“Is Roger the only person you are sexually active with?” Dr. Munroe asked, his face clear of any judgement. You nodded in reply. 

“The only person since my husband,” you added. “With Corin being so young, I never had any time or interest in dating.” 

“And financially, how are things?” the doctor wondered, clasping his hands in his lap. “Do you have a stable income, housing, those sorts of things?” 

“I own a small bookshop in Kensington, within walking distance of Imperial College,” you explained. “It’s been quite successful. It gets quite busy during the exam season, but it’s very manageable other times of the year. My dad started the place when I was young, built the shop as an attachment to our house.” 

“Alright, then,” Dr. Munroe smiled. “I’m pleased to hear you’re doing well for yourself. Let’s take a look here.” He opened your chart and flipped to the ‘test results’ tab. You held your breath as you waited for him to read out the result, not sure of what you were hoping for. 

“Ms. O’Connor, test is positive,” he announced. “Congratulations.” 

“It’s for sure, then?” you said softly. 

“As far as our tests can tell, yes. You are indeed pregnant.” He gave you a minute to let the news sink in before stepping over to the bedside. 

“So what now?” you asked, your mind racing. The only thing you could think of was, ‘What will Roger say?’” Dr. Munroe patted the end of the examination table, indicating for you to swing your legs up. 

“Now we listen to baby’s heart, and look at him or her with the ultrasound,” he replied, retrieving a blanket from a linen rack on the far wall. “I’m going to lay this over your legs, Ms. O’Connor, just to keep you covered as much as possible.” 

“How did I not realize I was pregnant?” you blurted out to no one in particular. Dr. Munroe stopped adjusting the blanket and glanced up at you. 

“No two pregnancies are ever the same, my dear,” he said, patting your hand gently. “It’s no fault of your own that you didn’t notice signs earlier.” He passed you a tissue, which you used to blot at the tears in your eyes, and lifted the head of the bed slightly so you could see the screen. 

“I’m not upset about being pregnant,” you explained, “Really, that’s not it at all. I’m just a little overwhelmed, I guess.” Dr. Munroe nodded understandingly as he slid your gown up, baring your slightly distended belly. The cool, blue jelly he squeezed onto your abdomen made you shiver, as it always had when you were expecting Corin. 

“All these feelings are completely, normal,” he reassured you, pressing the Doppler wand against your skin. “Do you have a guess as to when the baby was conceived?” 

“I was thinking about it in the car this morning,” you nodded, “and my best guess is mid-November. We’re usually quite careful, but…” 

“I see,” the doctor nodded, fighting hard to suppress a grin. “Let’s have a listen, and we should be able to detect…here we are!” The Doppler machine started to make a soft, whooshing sound as Dr. Munroe fiddled with the machine. You felt a rush of warmth come over you as you listened to your baby’s heartbeat thumping in your belly. 

“Holy shit,” you gasped, not caring to censor your language. “There it is.” 

“There it is,” Dr. Munroe repeated. The two of you sat in silence for a minute; the doctor scribbled the baby’s heart rate in your chart while you compared the experience to your first pregnancy. 

“Now for the ultrasound,” he said, removing the Doppler wand from your stomach. You knew the baby’s heart was still beating, but you felt a sharp stab of fear when the sound ceased. “We’ll print a few photos as well, so you can have one for yourself, and one for your partner.” 

“I’ll have to send it to him in America,” you told him. “His band is touring the US until the beginning of April.” Dr. Munroe’s eyes went wide. 

“Is the group well-known?” he asked, turning on the ultrasound screen. 

“They’re called Queen…they’ve had a few songs on the radio, I suppose,” you said humbly. “Killer Queen has been quite popular here in the UK.” 

“Dynamite with a laser beam!” he exclaimed. “Yes, my wife and I purchased the record the week it was released. “And your partner plays what for them, now?” 

“He’s the drummer, does a bit of the vocals as well.” 

“I can see why this is all a bit of a shock for you, then,” he sympathized. “I know my wife felt quite lonely when I was doing my residency. She was at home with a toddler and a newborn; I’m quite certain she wanted to rip out all my hair and light me on fire when I came home after a 36-hour shift.” 

“Roger’s going to owe me a year’s worth of dish duty when he gets home,” you smiled. You remembered now how good the doctor’s bedside manner had been during your first pregnancy, and felt relieved that you had come to him again. 

The black screen beside you shifted as Dr. Munroe manoeuvred the ultrasound wand, revealing a grainy shape you’d recognize anywhere. The fetus’s head, belly, arms and legs were clearly visible, held inside a bean-shaped sac. 

“That’s her,” you whispered. “There she is.” For reasons you couldn’t explain, you knew the second you laid eyes on the image that she would be a girl. 

“There she is indeed,” he smiled. “Although, I can’t say for certain what the sex of the baby will be unless I take a look at a different angle.” 

“I’d rather wait until Roger can be here with me, anyways,” you acknowledged. “It’ll be his first, so I’m sure he’d want to see with his own eyes.” Dr. Munroe grabbed a towel and mopped up the ultrasound jelly from your pelvis. 

“Back in two shakes,” he promised, leaving the room to let you dress. You slid back into your skirt and blouse, glancing at your reflection in the mirror that hung from the door. Placing a hand over the beginning of your bump, you marvelled at not having recognized things soon. You’d noticed a bit of weight gain, but attributed it to it being winter. Your period had been irregular since you were a teen, so you hadn’t really noticed its absence. But the unexplained nausea should have been a dead giveaway, especially since you’d had morning sickness for nearly two full months during your first pregnancy. 

You slung your bag across your shoulder and opened the exam room door. Dr. Munroe was leaning against his receptionist’s desk, going over his schedule for the week. He shook your hand and congratulated you again before handing you an envelope with the ultrasound photos. 

“See you again in about 5 weeks, Mr. O’Connor,” his receptionist smiled, passing you a card with the date of your next appointment. You stepped out of the doctor’s office in a bit of a daze, momentarily forgetting where you had parked your car. 

On the way to pick up Corin, you debated how best to tell him and Roger the news. You’d never really considered having another child, and it wasn’t something you and Roger had ever discussed. Most of your friends weren’t even thinking about marriage yet, let alone parenting. John and Veronica were the exception; they had married just married a month ago, and unbeknownst to anyone outside your friend group, they were also expecting. You decided to give her a call and ask her over for dinner. As the partner of Roger’s bandmate, you knew she would understand your concerns. 

When you arrived at Daniel and Meredith’s house to retrieve Corin, your brother answered the door with a finger to his lips. He invited you in with a wave of his fingers and led you into the sitting room. Corin was asleep on the sofa, his little cousin tucked up against him. Nora (the nickname your brother had decided on for baby Eleanor) would turn one in just a few days, and although she was five years younger than Corin, the two got along smashingly. He enjoyed playing simple games with her, and she looked up to him with wide, wondrous eyes. 

Without thinking, you laid a hand on your belly as you observed the sleeping children. To think that in half a year, Corin would be able to hold his own baby brother or sister brought a tear to your eye. Dan was crouched down near the sofa, snapping a photo of the dozing children with his fancy new Polaroid camera. Meredith laid a hand on your arm, pulling your attention away from the adorable scene before you. 

“You’re pregnant?” she whispered, her eyes wide. Glancing down at your belly, you realized that your shirt fit quite tight, making your bump visible as you rested your hand on it. 

“I—I just found out today,” you spluttered. “We weren’t trying or anything. It just…” 

“Just happened,” she nodded knowingly. Your sister-in-law tilted her head towards the hall, and you followed her to the kitchen. Pointing to the table, she directed you to sit down as she put the kettle on and pulled out two teacups. 

“So how do you think Roger will take the news?” she asked, leaning against the back of a chair. 

“I think he’ll be very surprised,” you answered. “We’ve never really talked about having children; Corin’s kept us busy since we first got together.” 

“And you? How are you feeling with all of this? Overwhelmed, I’m sure.” 

“I’m…a bit ambivalent right now,” you confessed. “Of course I’m happy. I love Corin, and I have not a doubt in my mind about being with Roger, but…” 

“It changes everything,” Meredith acknowledged, bending down to embrace you. “No matter what, we’re here for you, Y/N.” After a moment, she pulled back, kneeling before you to inspect your belly. 

“Dan and I weren’t together when you were pregnant the first time,” she said ruefully, “so it’ll be nice to see you get huge instead of me this time ‘round.” Meredith reached out to touch your stomach, but glanced up to check with you. 

“Isn’t much there yet, but go ahead,” you encouraged. 

“I never had any sisters to do this for,” she sighed, “no nieces or nephews besides Corin to fawn over. But now…” 

Daniel walked into the kitchen, stopping short as he saw his wife’s hands on your belly. His mouth opened for a moment, but closed before he said anything. Spinning around quickly, he returned down the hall. 

“Shit,” you swore. “Can’t wait to hear what he thinks of me this time.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Meredith apologized. “He told me before Nora was born that he hadn’t handled your first pregnancy well.” Dan’s footsteps on the stairs sounded loudly through the house, waking Nora from her nap. Her mewling cries summoned Meredith, who left the room and returned a minute later with her sleepy baby. 

“Here’s Auntie Y/N,” Meredith sang, bouncing Nora gently on her lap. “Say, ‘hi Auntie, I’m excited to meet my new cousin!’” Nora gurgled happily, staring up at you with her lively, blue eyes. Both you and Meredith looked up as Dan stomped down the stairs, a large box in his arms. 

“Dan, what are you—” 

“Y/N, I want you to have this stuff,” your brother announced, breathing heavily. “I know I’ve fucked things up royally between us in the past, but now I have a chance to show you that I’m a better man that that.” He bent down and pulled the flaps of the box open to reveal an assortment of items: newborn-sized nappies, receiving blankets, and an assortment of clothes Nora had grown out of, among other things. 

“Dan, you can’t give this stuff away,” you protested. “What if you and Mer—” 

“We won’t,” she assured you. “One is plenty for us.” 

“I’ve had my…tubes snipped,” Dan stammered awkwardly. “So you should have these things.” You stood up from your chair and embraced your brother, who stood stock-still for a moment before tentatively returning your hug. It was all very embarrassing for both of you; Dan wasn’t an emotional msn, and you didn’t do well with accepting compliments or apologies. 

“So, anyhow,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, “when’s it—sorry, the baby—due?” 

“I’m 12 weeks along, the doctor estimated,” you explained, “so mid-August is his best guess.” Dan walked over to the calendar and flipped ahead to August, writing ‘BABY TAYLOR DUE’ in block letters at the top of the page. 

“We’ll be around to watch Corin, of course,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “After all you did for Meredith and I after Nora was born, we certainly owe you.” 

“We’re family, Dan,” you said simply. “We look after our own.” 

* * * * * 

The moment you pulled your car up behind the house, Corin went racing inside. You had stayed for dinner at Dan and Meredith’s, which had put him in a foul mood – quite uncommon for your typically patient 6-year-old. He had been working on building a train set Brian, John and Freddie had given him for Christmas, and wanted to have it finished in the next few days so his school friends could come over to play with it. 

Anna assured you that everything was under control in the shop, so you felt comfortable to sit in the kitchen and ruminate on the happenings of the day. 

You pulled one of the ultrasound photos from the envelope in your purse and inspected it carefully. The baby had the appropriate number of arms and legs, you determined, so that was promising. The big question now was how to tell Roger. A phone call hardly seemed appropriate, you thought, but really seemed like the only option. Mailing a letter would take too long, and flying to America was out of the question. Or was it? 

The tour itinerary hung on the wall above the phone. Corin checked it every morning to see where Roger would be for the day, and then looked it up in his world atlas. As you ran your finger down the list, you found that the closest dates were on the east coast. There were several days where there was a full-day gap between shows, meaning that if you did go, there would likely be time for Roger to spend a few hours with you. 

Punching the office phone number for Queen’s manager, Norman Sheffield, into your phone, you waited on the line to be patched through. He After explaining that you and Corin wanted to visit Roger on tour for a few days, Norman reluctantly agreed to arrange flights and accommodations, so long as you would cover the costs. After calling your financial advisor to discuss the funds you would require, you decided that this plan was actually possible. Norman called back an hour later to confirm your flight booking for two days from now. 

The remainder of your evening was spent dashing about the house, packing bags and making arrangements for the time you would be away. In total, you would be gone for a full week. Norman had agreed not to tell Roger of your plans, but warned you that the band would be busy with show preparation during the day, and would of course be onstage at night. You didn’t mind if this wasn’t exactly a quiet family vacation; all that mattered to you was sharing the big news with Roger. 

The last looming detail you needed to arrange was the management of the shop. As Anna closed the register for the day, you asked her to meet you in the kitchen when she finished up counting cash. 

“This is very last-minute, I know,” you told her, “but Corin and I are going to America for a week to visit Roger. We have some things to deal with as a family that can’t be done over the phone,” you explained. 

“So you want me to watch the shop?” she asked, surprised. She had been working part-time for the better part of a year, but had never been entrusted with the shop alone before. 

“If you aren’t able to do it, I’ll gladly take the cut in revenue for a week,” you assured her. “I don’t want to force you into something you aren’t comfortable with.” 

“No, of course I’ll do it,” she answered immediately. “No problem at all.” As you wrote out instructions for her about daily bank deposits and security codes, the black and white sonogram printout you had set down on the kitchen counter caught her eye. 

“Are you pregnant?” Anna blurted out suddenly. 

“Come again?” you asked, looking up at her. 

“You’re pregnant,” she repeated, pointing at the photo. “You and Roger are having a baby.” The outburst surprised you, but you chalked it up to your age. It wasn’t common for a 24-year-old to have a child as old as Corin, let alone two children. Anna was 19 or 20, just a few years younger than you, so it seemed logical that she would find your family planning choices a bit odd. 

“I just found out today,” you nodded slowly, looking back at your instructions. “That’s why we’re going to America – to tell Roger. I figured that’s news that should be shared in person.” 

“Makes sense,” Anna replied, fidgeting in her chair as she watched you write. Although she was a sweet girl, things had seemed a bit off with her since around Christmastime. You didn’t really have a relationship outside of work, so you didn’t feel comfortable asking if she had something happening at home or at school. Pushing it to the back of your head, you attempted to jot down a few last notes. 

“Mummy!” Corin called from upstairs, shifting your concentration yet again. “Can you come draw a me a bath, please?” his voice was whiny and impatient, not an uncommon event at this hour. 

“Sorry, Anna,” you groaned, rising from your seat. “Apparently only Mummy puts in the right amount of bubbles.” You trudged up the stairs to fulfil your motherly duties, leaving Anna alone in the kitchen. As soon as she heard the bath water running through the pipes, Anna snatched the sonogram printout from the counter. 

“Fucking unbelievable,” she scoffed quietly. “As if she got knocked up.” Y/N’s first and last name were visible on the printout, so it was obviously not a fake. Anna peered up towards the staircase, ensuring that you were still occupied with Corin. Using her shop key, Anna let herself into the small shop office. Your desk and filing cabinet took up one wall, and a copier stood in the corner. Anna tossed the ultrasound photo onto the scanning window and programmed the machine to make 10 copies. As soon as the machine whirred to life, she hurried back out and set the photo where she had found it. 

The copier took almost a full minute to print out the copies, which left Anna tapping her foot impatiently against the kitchen hardwood. When it had finished, she carefully folded the sheets of paper and tucked them into her bag for safekeeping. Anna returned to her seat at the counter and was still there when you descended the stairs, the front of your blouse soaked with soapy bathwater. 

“Wait a long, long time to have children if you can, Anna,” you suggested as you settled yourself on your bar stool. “They’re lovely, but you won’t be able to have nice things again until they grow up.” 

“Duly noted,” Anna laughed, clutching her bag in her lap. “I should be going, but I’ll be in tomorrow morning to open up the shop.” 

“Thanks again, Anna. You have no idea how much this means to me,” you expressed gratefully. “I’ll be here for most of the day tomorrow, but I have an appointment at the bank for 10:00. I’ll make sure everything you’ll need is in order by the end of the day, because we leave at 6:00 the next morning.” 

“See you tomorrow, then,” Anna waved, stepping out the back door. 

* * * * * 

“So will you take it?” 

“Queen is pretty hot right now,” the deep voice over the phone replied. “You’re positive your info is good?” Anna crossed her legs, sipping at a steaming cup of Earl Grey at her kitchen table. 

“I’ve got a photocopy of the ultrasound with her name on it right here, Tim,” she assured him. “If you can snap a photo of her tomorrow, it’ll make a perfect front page.” 

“And this will be my exclusive? You’re not shopping it around to anyone else?” he asked, sceptical. “Roger Taylor’s baby mama is a pretty big story, so if I’m competing with other tabloids, I want to know.” 

“It’s just you, Tim, I swear,” she promised. “I told you months ago that I’d have something good for you. Just had to wait for the right moment.” 

“And she’s leaving the shop around 9:45 tomorrow, you think?” Tim inquired. 

“She walks to the bank every morning with her kid, yes,” Anna confirmed. “You’ll know them when you see them.” 

* * * * * 

**THE LOFT BOOK SHOP, LONDON // OCTOBER 1974**

Roger stepped through the shop door, shaking his umbrella over the carpet before stepping onto the hardwood. He looked up, expecting to see his partner at the till, but in her place was Anna, the part-time hire Y/N had brought on earlier in the year. 

“Y/N had to take Corin to the dentist,” Anna announced, addressing Roger. “Said she’d be back in a few hours.” 

“Oh, thanks,” Roger replied, wiping the lenses of his sunglasses on his shirtsleeve to clear the raindrops. An odd, jazzy record was playing in the loft; not something Y/N owned, to his knowledge. After hanging his raincoat over the back of a chair, he climbed the ladder into the loft. The only time Roger ever went up there was to sit with Corin and enjoy an album. He often borrowed vinyl from John’s collection, because he had a wide array of musical tastes. Stopping the record to check the label, he saw that this was not one he was familiar with. 

“Is this yours, Anna?” he called down to the main floor, slipping the record back into its sleeve. When he reached the bottom of the ladder, Anna was lounging against a bookshelf. 

“Yes, it’s mine,” she confirmed. Roger glanced over at her, blinking with confusion as he realized that the top three buttons of her blouse were undone. Her bra showed through the gap in the fabric, black and lacy. 

“I’m sorry, am I missing something?” he asked, glancing around in search of…he wasn’t sure what. A boyfriend, perhaps? It might explain why she was showing so much skin. 

“It’s just us,” she drawled, walking towards him. “I know you look at me when you don’t think anyone else is around.” Roger stepped back, bumping into a shelf beside the ladder. He felt panicked like he hadn’t ever experienced before. Where the hell was Y/N? 

“Anna, I think I should go now,” he concluded, keeping his eyes carefully trained on her face to avoid miscommunication. “Y/N will be back soon, you said it yourself.” The woman’s hands ran down the front of her blouse, undoing the remaining buttons. She shrugged out of it, standing before Roger with her breasts on display. 

“She won’t know if we don’t tell her anything,” Anna assured him. “You want this as much as I do, Roger, I know you do. I’ve been waiting for you to take a chance, but it seems like you prefer your women to come to you.” As she reached out a hand to touch his chest, Roger swatted it away. 

“I’m not the kind of man you think I am,” he stated, his pitch rising sharply. “If Y/N walked in right now, she would be very hurt. So I’m going to walk away, you’re going to put your top back on, and we’re not going to mention this to anyone.” Roger stepped past Anna, retreating to the kitchen. 

“You’re going to regret this, Roger,” she called after him. 

“Really doubt it,” he murmured under his breath. Anna heard the upstairs bedroom door slam a minute later. With a sigh, she shook her head and pulled her blouse back on. 

“What a bore.” 

**TRENTON, NJ // FEBRUARY 16, 1975**

Corin was fast asleep on the train beside you, tucked beneath your arm as he snoozed. The flight from London to New York had been nearly 9 hours, but with the time change, you arrived in New York before the lunchtime rush. You’d taken a cab from JFK to Penn Station, where you boarded the train to Trenton. Corin, who hadn’t slept well the night before, had stared out the window in awe during the cab ride. 

“Why is it so busy, Mum?” he had asked. 

“Just a different way of life than back home, love.” 

Norman had arranged a hotel room in each city the tour stopped in, as well as a rental vehicle for travel. You hadn’t wanted to take up space on the tour bus, nor did you feel it was the best environment for Corin to be staying the entire week. It was early afternoon, which left plenty of time before the show to arrive at the venue and talk to Roger. He still didn’t know you were in America, and to be honest, you could hardly believe it yourself. It had been a whirlwind of planning, packing and travel, but you were only hours from seeing Roger for the first time in over a month. 

When you arrived at the venue, the Trenton War Memorial, you checked in at the security desk. The security guard guided you to the backstage area, where work was being done to set up. A rolling rack of costumes was being pushed down the hall by a roadie towards what you assumed was the dressing room. 

The guard showed you to a small sitting room, where you were surprised to see Chrissie, Brian’s girlfriend, seated and sipping at a glass of champagne. 

“Chris?” 

“Y/N?” she exclaimed, standing up quickly. “What on earth are you doing here?” Chrissie set down her glass and pulled you into a hug. “And Cor, my little love, how are you?” Corin giggled as Chrissie bent down and jostled him side to side, embracing him tightly. She stood up again, still in shock at seeing you so far from home. 

“We came to visit Roger for a few days, see a bit of America,” you explained. “It’s all been a bit of an adventure, very last-minute.” Chrissie nodded, attempting to comprehend it all. 

“Y/N, I’m so glad to see you,” she expressed, grabbing your hands. “But there’s something you should know.” Chrissie’s face was serious now, and a feeling of dread you couldn’t explain crept up on you. Corin had seen a bowl of wine gums on the table across the room, and was now sitting on the sofa with the bowl in his lap, picking out his favourite colours. 

“What’s happened?” you asked, your heart beating quickly. 

“I think…I think you need to talk to Roger,” she said tentatively. “His dressing room’s just down the hall to the left. He’s been in there a few hours.” She put a hand on your back, guiding you back out into the hall. “I’ll watch Corin, you go on ahead.” As you looked back at her, still confused by her demeanour, you watched her eyes slide down to your belly and stare. Your heart dropped into your stomach; you’d worn a loose shirt on purpose to avoid exactly this, but it suddenly clicked in your mind. Somehow, she already knew, which meant Roger did, too. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed, putting a hand to your mouth. “How…” 

“It was in the tabloids this morning,” Chrissie shook her head. “There’s a photo of you, and…it’s bad, Y/N.” 

“But I haven’t told anyone,” you insisted, trying to think over the last two days. “How could they know?” 

“I don’t know, honey, but Roger’s not taking it well.” She watched you with sad eyes as you took off down the hall towards Roger’s dressing room. 

With a heavy heart, you knocked on the door. You received no answer, so after a minute. The room across the hall had a paper with Brian’s name taped to it, but that door was closed as well – he wouldn’t be of any help either. This time, you knocked louder, and your knuckles stung as they struck the hard wood. 

“Fuck off, Brian,” Roger called out sharply. “Not in the mood.” 

“Rog, it’s me,” you replied, your voice trembling. “Please let me in.” Silence ensued for what felt like ages. Finally, the legs of a chair scraped across the floor inside the room, and the door flew open a moment later. 

“Y/N?” Roger asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. “How did you…what are you doing here?” 

“Corin and I flew in today,” you gulped. “We came to see you for a few days, and to tell you…I didn’t feel it was right to tell you over the phone, so—” 

“So you told a fucking tabloid instead?” he hissed, startling you. “That was your way of announcing that you’re pregnant with my fucking kid?” You stepped back in shock – Roger never raised his voice at you. 

“Darling, I—” you tried, but he cut you off again. 

“I get a call from Norman in the middle of breakfast, asking if I knew anything about this story on the front page of all the papers,” he said, walking back into his dressing room. “Of course I don’t know anything. I brush him off. I tell him it must be a fake.” Roger stopped, facing away from you with his hands on his hips. “We’ve been together for almost two years, Y/N, and I have to find out that you’re pregnant from a FUCKING TABLOID?” He pulled a chair away from the table, slamming it against the ground in rage. “Does our relationship mean nothing to you?” 

“ROGER, STOP.” 

Brian strode into the room and put a hand on Roger’s shoulder. You had crumpled to your knees on the floor in a mess of sobs, but Roger made no move to comfort or aid you. 

“Can’t you see she’s fucking terrified right now?” Brian demanded. “Why don’t you go cool down for a minute, and when you come back, we can talk this through like the rational adults we are.” Glaring spitefully at his bandmate, Roger stormed out of the room past you. 

Brian offered you a hand up and guided you over to the sofa. You tried to speak, but weren’t understandable through your blubbering. 

“It’s alright, love,” Brian soothed, “let’s take some deep breaths. That’s a girl.” His shirt was wet with your tears, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“I—I don’t understand what’s h-h-happening,” you stammered, working against the thick saliva coating your throat. “I would never tell the press about Roger and I.” 

“I believe you,” Brian assured you, patting your shoulder awkwardly. “Who knows besides you? The doctor, I’m sure, but he’s not legally allowed to break confidentiality.” You nodded, swallowing hard. Brian didn’t press you for answers, but instead waited patiently until you were composed enough to continue. 

“My sister-in-law guessed right away,” you told him, “but she and Dan would never say anything. Corin doesn’t even know.” With a loud sniff, you wiped your nose with the palm of your hand. “I wanted to wait so Rog and I could tell him together.” 

“Obviously someone told somebody,” Roger sighed, leaning against the doorframe. You physically recoiled against Brian at the sound of his voice – he hadn’t made a sound when he returned to the room. 

“Roger,” Brian warned, his voice rumbling in his chest. 

“I’ve calmed down,” Roger held his hands out defensively. “I won’t throw anything. I just want to sit with my wif—with Y/N,” he corrected, “and apologize for being a rageful twat.” 

“I don’t think that’s a g—” Brian started, but you slung an arm across his chest and hugged him tightly. 

“We’ll be fine. Thanks, Bri,” you said gratefully. Roger closed the door behind Brian as he left the room. Very slowly, he walked over to the sofa and sat down beside you. Roger was completely silent for nearly a full minute before he looked down at you. 

“I know you would never tell the press something like this,” he murmured, ashamed. “I should have trusted you, Y/N, but I fucked up.” You laid your head against his shoulder and laced your fingers through his, silently acknowledging his apology. Roger’s chest shook as he began to cry. 

“It’ll be alright, love,” you promised, squeezing his hand. 

“I think I know who did it,” Roger mumbled, thinking back to an event that had occurred shortly before Christmas. “Would Anna have had access to the ultrasound photo?” 

“Anna?” you exclaimed. “Why her?” 

“She, um…made a pass at me a few months ago,” he cringed. “I don’t know why I didn’t say anything at the time, but she’s been different since then.” 

“She did ask about the ultrasound photo,” you said slowly, remembering her odd comments. “I left it on the table while I was filling up the tub for Cor’s bath, so she could have made a copy of it, I suppose.” 

“So…I guess you send her packing when you get home?” he asked. There was no question about it; she would need to go. That kind of person wasn’t safe to have around your family. 

“Let’s burn that bridge when we come to it,” you brushed it off. “We’re here all together now: you and me, Cor and baby. That’s what really matters.” As Roger kissed the top of your head, a tear fell from his cheek into your hair. 

“Corin and baby,” he repeated, wiping his arm across his face. “We’re having a baby, love.” 

“We are,” you smiled, craning your neck and pressing your lips against his. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. It had been a full month since your last hug, your last kiss. This was long overdue, you both agreed. 

The moment was interrupted by the sound of little trainers slapping against the cement floors echoed down the hall as Corin sprinted away from Chrissie. 

“Cor, come back, Mum and Dad just need a minute,” she shouted after him, but he had a head start on her. Corin whipped into the room and launched himself onto the sofa. He narrowly avoided head-butting your belly, but instead found himself stretched across your and Roger’s laps. 

“Careful there, pal,” Roger laughed, patting Corin’s leg. “We don’t want to hurt Baby.” You glanced up at Roger, your mouth wide open. He slapped a hand to his forehead as he realized his mistake. 

“Baby?” Corin asked, frowning up at you. “Where’s a baby?” 

“Right in here, buddy,” you said, rubbing your belly. “This summer, you’re going to get a new baby brother or sister.” Corin’s face fell, to your surprise. 

“Does it have to come during the summer?” he demanded. “It can’t Mum. You’ll have to keep it until winter.” 

“Why?” you and Roger asked at the same time. Corin rolled his eyes, already modelling his father’s attitude at age 6. 

“If the baby comes during the summer, I’ll have to miss the whole cricket season,” he explained, looking at you both as if you ought to have known better. “I can’t take care of a baby if I’m at cricket, you know.” He turned his head towards your stomach and touched your bump gently. Roger squeezed your hand, acknowledging your son’s sweet comment. 

“Go ahead, Cor, talk to her,” you encouraged him. “I bet she can hear you.” In a soft voice, Corin began to sing, choosing the song Roger always sang to him before bed: 

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All my life, you were only waiting

For this moment to arise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading! Stay tuned for the next update - likely after I've updated "A Gentlemen's Agreement", my other WIP!


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